


William James

by cynatnite



Series: The Barton Initiative [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Hurt Locker (2008)
Genre: Clint is the mature one, Takes care of their own, William James is still a dick, William James wants to be a bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 00:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynatnite/pseuds/cynatnite
Summary: The mystery surrounding the whereabouts of one baby boy deepens when Clint meets William James.





	William James

“Fucking assholes.” William James was muttering under his breath as he staggered down the hallway with a smoke hanging from his lips as he made his way to the apartment. He’d been kicked out the bar for lighting up and refusing to put the cigarette out.

Getting some unwanted time off had happened for two reasons. One, he’d been on shift for eight days straight. Secondly, and more importantly, he’d pissed off the watch commander enough that the man had threatened jail or time off. James was a dick who didn’t give a shit, but the job he couldn’t afford to lose.

He dropped his keys twice before finally being able to get the door open. As James shut it behind him he cursed again. His jeep was still at the bar. He’d have to go get it in the morning.

The first thing he noticed was his clean coffee table. Where the fuck was the ashtray and the bottle of Jack?

Then he saw the black laptop. James went to the sofa and slumped down. He’d just touched it when a slight movement got his attention. The Glock was stuffed between the cushions and James’ movements were lightning fast as he snapped it towards the shadow across the room.

“What kind of fucking moron breaks in, cleans up the place and leaves a fucking laptop behind?”

The laugh was low as the body leaned forward. “Only the kind knows you’re still a hopeless slob.”

James turned on the lamp and at seeing Sam Wilson, he lowered the gun.

“Fuck me. Sanborn, what the hell are you doing here? Breaking into my place?”

“What’s a little B&E between friends.” Sam got to his feet.

When James stood he just shook his head. “Never thought you’d go civvie.”

“Never thought you’d run out of EO to diffuse.”

Another movement out of the corner of James’ eye had him swinging the weapon around and aiming at the figure coming out of the dark kitchen.

“The shit,” James breathed. The guy looked just like him.

“James, there’s something I never told you when we were in theater,” Sam said.

“Does it explain this shit?” James said with a motion of the barrel at the man.

“I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about why I was put with your unit,” Sam began. “Name’s actually Sam Wilson. Sanborn was a cover for the DOD.”

James took a moment to let the information soak in before speaking. “I need you to stay real still.” He was drunk, but he still trusted his reflexes. James snapped around and put his fist across Sam’s chin, then aimed the gun back at the stranger.

Sam stumbled back knocking into a bookshelf. He looked across at Clint. “You just going to stand there?”

Clint shrugged his shoulders. “Who am I to get in the middle of a fight between old army buddies?”

“Buddies my ass.” Sam straightened.  “James, this is Clint Barton, teammate and Avenger’s favorite and only archer.”

“No shit.” James still wouldn’t lower the gun.

“No shit,” Clint replied.

“Put down the fucking gun, James,” Sam told him. “I’ll make some coffee.”

James sighed. “Fuck it.”

He set the Glock on the table near the laptop and fished the smokes out of his pocket. After lighting one, he sat back on the sofa.

“Sit the fuck down before I change my mind about shooting you,” James said between drags.

“Those things will kill you.” Clint took the chair in the corner.

“The surgeon general can go fuck himself.”

They sat staring at one another while listening to Sam in the kitchen making the coffee. Nothing was said until Sam returned with a large cup. He held it out to James.

“Not a drinker?” James smirked.

“We need you somewhat sober for this conversation,” Sam bit out.

James took the cup and blew on it before taking a drink. “Made it strong enough, didn’t you?”

“Drink it,” Sam ordered. He was already losing patience with James, a sign little had changed since they’d seen each other last.

The coffee was still damn good. James shot a glare at Clint. “You my evil twin or am I yours?”

“We’re about to find out,” Clint said. He pointed to the laptop. “That’ll explain why I’m here.”

“Fuck you,” James said. “I’m too drunk for heavy reading tonight.”

“Word has it,” Sam began. “You blew up the commissioner’s car yesterday.”

“The asshole shouldn’t’ve been double parked.”

“You grabbed the bomb out of an office building, ran down three flights of stairs, out to the street and tossed it through the window,” Clint added. “Forty-two seconds. Not bad.”

“Fuckers shut down the elevators when they cut the power,” James muttered. He took another sip. “The explosion damn near burnt the hair on my balls.”

He finished off the cigarette and dropped the butt in an empty beer can on the end table. “So, you here to tell me I’m adopted or some shit?”

“It’s at the top,” Clint answered.

“Figures. I haven’t seen the old lady in three years. She’s living it up in a Florida retirement community. We never were that close. I was a symbol of her failure to reproduce. She’s giving all her money to some fucking preacher.”

“And you’re adoptive father?” Sam asked.

James turned his head. “Not talking to you about him.”

Clint’s eyes shifted to the shelf where several pictures sat. One of them was James with his adoptive father, smiling. Sitting on top was an American flag encased in a wooden frame. It told the story. He got up and took a seat next to James.

Opening the laptop, Clint began. With each passing minute, James became more attuned to what he was being told.  He appeared to take an interest in each photo, but asked no questions whatsoever. When Clint finished, he said nothing as James fished out another smoke.

“What now?”

“Well, hoping to get everyone together in New York.”

“Family reunion,” James smirked. He took a long drag. “Listen, man, this is all noble and shit, but count me out. This shit isn’t my thing.”

“Nothing is your thing, isn’t it, James,” Sam stated.

“Oh, fuck you,” James spat. “It’s been a fucking lifetime since I saw you last. You don’t know shit about me.”

“Your wife and kid? I know about them. You haven’t seen them in over a year.” Sam got the finger from James. He saw Clint motioning and went to him. “What do you think?”

“He’s in no shape to listen reasonably right now. Let him sleep it off and we’ll come around in the morning after he’s had some time.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder at James who was reading something on the laptop.

“Can’t hurt.”

They turned when James loudly cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“What the hell is this?” He flipped through more pages. “I thought you assholes had your shit together to hear Barton tell it!”

“That’s everything we’ve got,” Clint asserted.

“Well, you ain’t got shit!” James shot to his feet. “Did you even read Kitson’s 201? Or did you fucking stop when you got the answer you fucking wanted!”

James got in Clint’s face. “What’s the real reason you’re here for, Barton? To clean your conscience for being late to the game in tracking us down?”

“Hey,” Sam said. He pushed James back who tried to take a swing at him.

Sam ducked it and he grabbed James by the arm and got him on the floor.

“Calm down, James! What is wrong with you!” Sam yelled.

“Him!” James was on the hard floor and not able to break the grip Sam had on him. He cursed at himself for not staying in better shape since the Army. “Just went hunting when he got fucking famous!”

“I only found out a few months ago,” Clint said. He was seeing himself as a young stupid kid in James with more issues than he ever knew what to do with. “You saw something in Kitson’s 201 File. What was it?”

“More like what’s not there, motherfucker!” James tried to wrestle out of the hold. “Get off me, asshole!”

“Only if you explain it to us!” Sam ordered. “No more punches. You got that!”

“Fine!” James bit out. Sam slowly let him go and once free, he got to his feet. Looking at Clint, James had no doubt the man could easily take him down as well. He went to the laptop and turned it around for Clint to see. “There’s no fucking DD 2016!”

“What is that?” Clint asked.

“Disposition of remains.” James was still pissed. He shot a glare at Sam. “Why didn’t you know?”

“No reason,” Sam said. “Not my area.”

“Wasn’t mine either, but I always made sure whenever we lost one.” James flipped through the pages and stopped on one. “DD 565. State of recognition of the deceased. The officer who signed off on it was killed in Fallujah two days before Kitsom’s death. I remember him because I got an Article 15 for punching him.”

Clint almost couldn’t breathe. “Wait a fucking minute. It was faked?”

James averted his eyes. He couldn’t let anyone know how it was for him. “Most officers didn’t give a shit. They wanted the dead bodies gone. Nobody wanted them around. It was a reminder. I fucking couldn’t do it. Had to make sure it was right so the family could…” He lit another cigarette forgetting about the one already burning on the floor.

“James,” Clint said. “If one is missing and the other is faked, could it have been a fucking mistake? You said they didn’t give a damn and wanted the bodies out of sight.”

He shook his head. “It’d get fixed down the line. Paperwork gets misfiled all the time, but eventually it always catches up. This was different. I don’t fucking know why or how, but this kind of shit doesn’t happen.”

“We need to find out what happened to Kitsom’s body,” Sam said.

“EOD may not have left anything behind,” Clint told him.

“You need the fucking field reports,” James explained. “Commanding officer would’ve done it.”

“This is all we’ve got.” Clint rubbed his eyes.

“Anything else wrong there?” Sam asked James.

“No 567 or 2064.” James needed another drink. “They just fucking wiped his death away like it never mattered. Nobody gave a shit.”

“He was raised in some group home in Reno,” Clint said. If he got them all in the same room, only then would Clint tell them the entirety of Kenneth Kitsom's life. “No family. He would’ve been…”

James finished the sentence for him. “Expendable. They fucking used him. I don’t get it. He was a grunt. Why do this?” He asked with a wave at the computer screen.

It took a moment for Clint to think before he spoke. “Sam, I need you stay with him.” Clint took the laptop.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to make a call and get the next flight to LA. Phil’s going to call you with instructions. Just hold tight here for the time being.”

“Not a problem. Me and him have got some catching up to do.” Sam squeezed Clint’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this thing out.”

Carrying the laptop, Clint left and went to the car he and Sam had parked in the alley. He got in and dialed.

“It’s me. We got him. Sam’s staying behind to get him cleaned up…. yeah, I know. Listen, have Jarvis book me the next flight to LA. I think Kenneth Kitsom is alive, Phil.”

 


End file.
